


All you have to do is say the word

by TheFierceBeast



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: George is awkward, Immaturity, Locker Room, M/M, Mitchell is childish, Pre-Slash, Werewolf, hospital locker room fumbling, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFierceBeast/pseuds/TheFierceBeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childish banter and not-so-childish urges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All you have to do is say the word

“So what’s the deal?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” George opens his locker forcefully, hiding Mitchell’s infuriating smirk, but there it is again immediately as Mitchell pokes his head around the open door. George rolls his eyes and rummages around, collecting his belongings.

“The new guy. Craig.”

 _Oh. God._ “What about Craig?”

“ _What_ about Craig.” Mitchell raises his eyebrows.

 _He’s noticed. He’s noticed the looks and the unsolicited chats and the smiles and the… the_ flirting _. He’s noticed all that, coming from the wrong guy._  George’s heart sinks. “Mitchell. If you’re insinuating what I think-“

“He seems nice.”

 _Oh god, I could slap you._ “He does. He seems like a perfectly nice chap.”

“He seems to like _you_.” Mitchell pulls a ‘what about it?’ face.

“Where are you going with this? I don’t like where-“

“I think he wants to touch your willy.” Mitchell says, conversationally.

“Mitchell!”

Mitchell holds up his hands. “Just sayin’.”

“Well - don’t say!”

“Don’t say willy, or don’t say he wants to touch yours?” George slams his locker closed and sits down on the bench to aggressively change his shoes, but Mitchell just crouches down beside him, all mock-earnest. “It’s OK George, it’s totally natural-“

“Just - _stop it_! He seems perfectly pleasant as I said, but there will be no touching of - _parts_ \- by him or by-“

“Go on, just say it.” Mitchell interrupts. He’s grinning that fireworks grin and George absolutely resents it, “Go on. I dare you. Say willy.”

“You are _so childish_.”

“It’ll make you feel better.” Mitchell waggles his eyebrows and George feels in spite of himself a smile start to tug the corners of his mouth. _I hate you. I’m supposed to be angry._ “I don’t fancy Craig.” Then, quietly, “…willy.”

The laugh that explodes from Mitchell right then is very loud and very rude and sets George off too like a detonator, until his stomach muscles are clenching and he can just about admit, “Yes, alright. I feel better.”

“I’m glad you’re not into him.”

“You are?”

“He’s not good enough for you. And your willy.”

George swallows another bout of laughter and it leaves him breathless. Yeah, that’s definitely what snatches the breath from him. He looks up at him, curiously. “Well, obviously. It’d be a rare man who was good enough, I’d say. One in a million.”

Mitchell is staring at him oddly, a little half smile still softening his face, but his eyes tell a different story. It’s like this all the time with them. Like a slow pressure, building. As George watches, he takes a deep breath in, visibly deep, and George thinks suddenly of his slow, slow heartbeat and then realises that they’ve been there just gazing at one another for longer than is surely polite. He stands up, slowly. “Mitchell?”

“Mmhm…”

“Would _you_ like to touch my willy?”

Mitchell’s lips part, it seems, in slow motion. All George can hear is a ringing in his ears, the tumbleweed silence that follows a question like that. It’s OK though. He feels fine. It was such a ludicrous thing to say that it’ll be more than easy to pass off as a joke-

“Is that an official invitation?” Mitchell’s voice sounds like he’s just smoked a twenty pack. He swallows and George watches his throat constrict, the skin pale under dark stubble, his lips very pink as the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet them.

“M-m-may- yes.” He manages a tight nod.

**Author's Note:**

> (And the word is ‘willy’. Sorry not sorry for this, I’m clearly in love with stupid banter and Mitchell winding George up endlessly and I think BH fandom needs more simple uncomplicated happy fluffy fic amirite? Also a certain person dared me to use the word ‘willy’ in a fic and how can I resist a doubledare? They always seem to freeze on me at cliffhangers. I may revisit this for some hospital-locker-room fumbling in future?!)


End file.
